


Bruises

by Kiyomice



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, POV First Person, kpop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2019-11-08 13:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17982164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyomice/pseuds/Kiyomice
Summary: I have no bruises on the outside. Maybe if he hit me, it would make more sense. Maybe then my mind would be able to comprehend what's happening. When there are no bruises on the outside, it makes you question just how bad it could really be. He didn't hit me, so it must not be that bad, right? It's normal for someone to threaten to kill you. If they don't actually touch you, then it's no big deal. Threats are only threats afterall.Except maybe that's not right. Maybe it's not so normal to live in fear every day. Maybe something is wrong. Maybe it's possible to have bruises on the inside.





	1. Chapter 1

I tried to avoid looking at him. Wooyoung was in one of those moods — the wrong look could send him into a rage, it could induce a night of arguing, yelling, insults, and belittling. It would be my fault, my fault for not being more careful, my fault for being stupid, weak, disgusting. No. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't set him off.   
  
"What are you waiting for, San?" His tone was sharp, his words curt, and they pierced through me. It was a question which demanded eye contact. I tried my best — I met his gaze and left out a soft apology, then forced my body to move and join him in the shower.

The warm water cascaded itself over me, but it didn't take away the chills I felt. He could sense that, I knew he could.  
  
"Why are you acting like this?" Instantly, I tensed. I had made a mistake. I wasn't acting like he wanted me to — but what should I do? How should I change my behavior?   
  
"I'm sorry. I'm just tired."  
  
I hoped that was good enough. He pursed his lips into two flat lines, clearly displeased, but not displeased enough to give me trouble about it. That was good. I avoided setting him off.   
  
He started washing my hair and then massaging my shoulders. With every minute that passed, I could feel his mood lighting, and I thanked whatever Gods created hot water. Showers were tricky sometimes, but for the most part they worked miracles on easing the tension between us. By the end of the shower, Wooyoung had me pressed up against the wall, calling me cute pet names and teasing me. He grabbed my cock from behind when he pushed into me, giving me as much pleasure as he was giving himself. He bit down on my left shoulder as he came, and I followed only moments later, leaving us both breathless but satiated. 

Then the mood changed again. A few beats that passed as he pulled out, and I couldn't tell what was going to happen next. Which Wooyoung would emerge? 

It was silent as he washed us both off. I remained on guard, but continued to worry about how I should act. Would talking be bad? Or would saying nothing be worse? 

I watched as he turned off the water and stepped out. He turned back at me and lifted an eyebrow. "Are you going to stay in there forever?" 

His face was hard to read — he wasn't angry, but it felt like one wrong move would change that very quickly. I put on a fake smile. "Sorry, just daydreaming." 

Then it happened. He smiled back, that big smile that meant I was home safe. The kind Wooyoung was here, and I no longer needed to tiptoe around him. I quickly joined his side and we dried off together. Then he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek.

For now, he was pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the first time I am posting a story on here. I usually write on AsianFanFics. So I might need some time to get used to this site, haha!  
> I am not sure where this fanfic will go, if it'll have a happy ending or a sad one, or if it'll be long or short. But I think it's okay not not know. I hope you enjoy it regardless of where it goes.


	2. Patterns

I had been living with him for two years now, and dating him for three. I wasn't sure if our relationship could be described as typical or not, but I knew what patterns we had, and I was starting to figure out how to work around him. For example, there would be times where he'd be pissed because we hadn't had sex in too long. It would took a while until I noticed what the pattern was, but I've got it down now. He usually starts by complaining about me not spending enough time with him. Then it typically escalates, and I avoid him for a while — confrontation during this step never ends up well. A few hours later, he'll end up saying he's lonely, and I must not care about how he feels. Sometimes I ignore these things, and sometimes I get upset and tell him he's wrong and I _do_ care. 

It always ends up being a fight about how I am "neglecting him", and if I really cared about him, we'd have sex more often. In the end, this pattern always leads to us having sex. It was confusing in the beginning, not knowing that's what his goal was. Now that I knew the pattern, we could skip half those steps. I'm not sure if most relationships have patterns like this, but it's probably not that weird. He's never been violent toward me and he's never forced sexual contact on me. No relationship is perfect. If I can see the patterns, I can make sure he gets what he wants. When he's happy, I'm happy. Things only get rough when I mess that up.

Unfortunately, I seem to mess things up frequently. Just an hour ago, Wooyoung called me, asking me if I'd like to go to dinner with him after he gets off work. For some stupid reason, I said I wasn't feeling up to it. I don't know why I did this. He's my boyfriend and I'm suppose to do things like this — go to dinner, spend time with him, just _be_ boyfriends — and I said _no_. He wasn't happy about this, and I could understand why. What kind of boyfriend must I be to decline going on a date? I mean, sure, if I had other plans, it would make sense to say no. But I was free. Completely free. So why, _why_ did I do that?

At first, all he did was stay quiet. Then, "a _lright_ ", the single word he said before hanging up. That wasn't very good, but it wasn't that bad, either; especially considering what I had done. But he just got home ten minutes ago, and things aren't doing so well now. I can hear him in the kitchen, slamming things, sighing, saying _"I didn't want to have to cook tonight."_

It's my fault. I shouldn't have declined the invitation. It's worse knowing that at any minute, I could go out there, apologize, and offer to drive to our favorite spot; but I can't. I don't have the guts, I don't have what it takes to man up and correct my mistake. So instead I sit here, surrounding myself in a veil of shame, shrinking into myself more and more. All I can think is, _how could I do this?_

∞

I'm not doing so well, if I have to say. I've been sitting here, slowing losing my mind, and I don't know what to do. Wooyoung cooked dinner for me — pasta, with that Alfredo sauce he makes so well — yet I couldn't find the appetite to eat it. I felt like I didn't deserve to. He didn't want to make it originally, it's something he had to do because I wouldn't go to dinner with him. What kind of a monster would I be if I hurt him like that and then took advantage of his kindness afterwards?

"You're not going to eat it, are you?" 

I looked up at him, and a feeling of dread instantly flooded my body. This isn't good. He's mad. He's mad that I'm not eating. I keep making mistakes, I keep making it worse. When this happens, I never know what to do, my brain completely freezes. Do I eat it? Do I tell him I'm not hungry? What can I do to make him happy? What can I do to fix this? Wouldn't it be bad to eat it? 

I looked down, my thoughts racing, and I stared at the plate. Somehow it feels like if I just _look_ at it, the problem will go away, I won't have to face the mistakes I've made tonight. They'll just disappear. 

"Fine, don't eat it then. I don't give a fuck." He pushed out of his chair quickly, then took his plate and threw the remaining half of his pasta into the nearby trashcan. I tried not to make eye contact with him, but I could hear him tossing the plate into the sink. It made a loud sound, but it didn't seem like it broke. I then heard him walking toward me.

"Are you going to finish it or not?" 

I looked up at him, guilt rising through me, but more than that, shame. "N-no, I'm not." 

I instantly cringed when I realized I had stuttered, but that thought quickly evaporated when he took my plate. He repeated the process of throwing the food away and slamming the dish into the sink. He was angry, so very angry, and once again, I had only managed to make it worse. Another pattern was forming all over again.

"I'm going to bed." 

I wasn't sure what to do with this information, so all I could do was look away. When I finally heard him slam our bedroom door, I felt the tension ease out of my shoulders. I hadn't realized I was so tense.

It's times like these where I wish I had someone to go to, someone to get advice from. I've made a few acquaintances at the cafe I've started work out, but they are superficial relationships. I'm so terrible at making friends, and I'm even worse at being a boyfriend. I wish I could make things better between Wooyoung and I, but I don't know how. I don't know why he stays with me. I don't deserve him, I likely never will.

But maybe as time passes, I'll be able to recognize these patterns better. Maybe I won't ever be a good boyfriend, but maybe I'll be good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was okay :)


	3. Happiness

"San, baby, come here," Wooyoung cooed as he reached for my hand. He gestured at a large abstract painting. I studied its violent pinks and reds clashing against black. There were small white spots resulting from the collusion. It was like an explosion that gave me two distinct feelings. The first was what most people might have seen: Pretty colors, creativity, passion. The second was much darker. It felt like hatred, violence, death.

"It reminds me of you," he said, a smile on his face. I tried to smile back. "Pretty," he continued. "Strong..." 

My mind split in two. The first part of me resented his words. He was comparing me to a painting filled with so much darkness underneath it. The second part of me ignored that and focused instead on how sweet he was being. He had brought me to this art museum on a whim, just because he knew I liked art. He was complimenting me. Comparing me to something he found pretty and strong. It was sweet. He was sweet. 

Wooyoung lost interest in the painting and tugged me gently in another direction. We spent another hour at the museum, browsing different types of art and laughing and goofing off. When we were done, we went to the small restaurant on the opposite side of the street for lunch, and then we headed back home. 

Once we were home, Wooyoung pulled me into his arms, kissing me deeply. I tensed for a second, but then melted against his lips as I realized things were fine. He then lead me into our room, pushing me down on the bed once we arrived. He started kissing my neck feverishly, pouring his energy into me like a savage. He quickly ripped our clothes off and gave me minimal preparation before taking me. His movements were frantic, rough, messy, but I didn't care - it felt good, and I enjoyed the way he used me. 

In the end he slowed down, and we reached our climax together. Neither of us moaned the other's name, the only sound in the room was our breathing, heavy and worn-out. He pulled out and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling his head into my neck. "I love you, San." 

That did it. Butterflies filled my heart and I allowed myself to turn to mush. I smiled and turned to him. "I love you, too, Wooyoung." And I did. When he held me like this, when we had good days, it made me forget about everything that happened in the past. I didn't care who he turned into sometimes. I didn't care if he made me feel afraid. He was my anchor and I didn't know who I would be without him. 

I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I awoke, it had gotten darker outside and I could hear thunder. Wooyoung was snoring beside me. I looked at the clock and saw it was almost six. I decided to prepare dinner. I put on some mismatched pajamas before heading into the kitchen. I made simple garlic chicken with rice, then sat the dishes on the dinner table before heading back into our room.

Once I was there, I sat on the bed next to Wooyoung, pausing for a second to watch him. He looked the same in his sleep as he did when he was awake. There was no hidden softness that came out, no touch of innocence added onto his features. It made me a bit sad. Wooyoung was many things, strong, handsome, occasionally sweet, but never really soft.

"Wooyoung," I whispered, nudging his arm. "Wake up, Wooyoung."

It took a few repeats of calling his name, but eventually he did break out of his slumber. I wanted him to smile at me, I wanted him to say something sweet, perhaps just say "hey". Instead he furrowed his eyebrows, looking pissed that I woke him up. 

"I-I made dinner," I told him, hoping that wouldn't set him off.

He grunted and lied his head back down and closed his eyes. "Alright."

I knew what that meant, it meant he would join me when he was fully up. I left and went back into the kitchen. I started washing the dishes, letting my mind wander during the mundane task. I tried to think about good things. I tried to think about how great today had been, but my mind kept going to dark places. The painting from this afternoon popped into my mind repeatedly. I thought about how much I hated it, and how much Wooyoung seemed to adore it, and it made me feel sick. It made me feel sick because a part of me thought he knew what dark undertones that painting carried. Maybe he knew it and that's how he saw me. Or maybe he truly had no clue, maybe everything about it was just me overreacting. That was probably it. 

I heard the chair scraping against the wooden floor and knew Wooyoung had sat down at the dinner table. I turned the water off, dried my hands, and went to join him. As I sat down, my eyes met his cold, empty gaze, and I knew things were bad. He was clearly unhappy about being awake. He didn't want to get up and eat dinner with me, but he did because I had come to him and asked him to. It made me feel small, it made me hate myself for making another mistake. 

We didn't say anything as we ate, the silence filling the room and making things awkward. The minutes seemed to stretch on and scream. It was unbearable. He scraped his fork harshly against the plate to let me know how pissed off he was. I hated myself, hated myself for causing this, for deciding that making dinner was a good idea. 

When he was done, he all but threw his plate in the sink, the crashing sound making me jump. He looked at me and spoke in a cold voice. "I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up." 

He left, going back into our room and closing the door just the smallest bit harder than necessary. I knew, without a doubt, that in his mind, the door was no big deal. But to me, it was huge. He wanted to show me he was pissed, but he also wanted to ensure that if I confronted him about it, he could say he didn't slam the door. That way, it wouldn't be a lie. Everything he did was cold and calculated in a perfect combination in order to make me feel insane. Most days, it worked.

I didn't eat the rest of my food. I went to work on washing the rest of the dishes and then just stood there, pondering. I couldn't go back to our room, not yet. I could watch TV on the couch, but then I feared what his reaction would be if he got up to go to the restroom and saw me avoiding him. He would probably ask me what I was doing, and then no matter what I said, we would end up in a fight. 

I decided to go on a drive. I grabbed the keys and a jacket and went out the door without announcing my departure. It wasn't the first time I had done this, so I knew he wouldn't be surprised, but I knew it would cause issues. We shared a car, and while it was technically mine, I knew he would chew me out for one thing or another. I could picture it now: "Do I have to get gas and be late for work tomorrow? Do I have to move the seat back now because you moved it?"

But I didn't care, I would deal with that later. I had to get out. I got in the car, adjusted the mirrors, moved the seat back and drove. 

And then I kept driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I am sorry for the slow updates^^


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